May/June 2018 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
So now we all know where he goes
When Santa seeks summer repose.
He trades in his sleigh
For artist’s beret
And paints with the grass ’neath his toes.
Congratulations to Michelle Gordon-Weedon of Airway Heights, Washington! For her limerick describing J.C. Leyendecker’s cover illustration for the May 26, 1934, issue of the Post, she wins $25 and our gratitude for a job well done.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.
In no particular order, here are some of our other favorite entries to this limerick contest:
Said an elderly artist named Will,
“Painting nature is quite a big thrill.
The poses won’t last,
So I have to work fast
’Cause hummingbirds cannot sit still!”—Roger Blush, Irvine, California
My questions, I hope, won’t cause strife.
Is he ignoring the cute wildlife?
Is his nose red from drink?
And that sweater of pink …
Does it really belong to his wife?—Brian Federico, Clyde, New York
The animals witnessed that summer
A bearded and red-bereted plumber
Who sat at his easel
And painted a weasel
So perfectly — number by number.—Denis Feehan, Mesquite, Nevada
With butterflies, bluebird and doe,
Two bunnies complete our tableau.
Idyllic? You bet!
However, I get
Art critics wherever I go.—Steve Johnston, Peoria, Arizona
Well, this dwarf had the right to be mopey.
He again lost a film part to Dopey.
So he shed just one tear
As he cut off his ear.
You might know him: His name is Van-Gogh-pey.—Jennifer Klein, Jericho, New York
The painter applied his paint thick.
His brushwork was skillful and quick.
When the painting was done
He amazed everyone.
With a chuckle, he signed it “Saint Nick.”—Roy Skibiski, Lawndale, California
As the animals gather and stare,
He is sitting composed in his chair.
He is painting with ease
And enjoying the breeze,
But his painting is off by a hare.—Ryan Tilley, Altamonte Springs, Florida
As the animals gradually got bolder,
Painter’s temper had started to smolder.
He finally confided,
“I just can’t abide it —
You lot looking over my shoulder!”—Lisa Timpf, Simcoe, Ontario, Canada
For a masterpiece, Painter did strive.
The meadow, it seemed, came alive.
But the doe and the jay,
Concerned about pay,
Wanted time and a half after five.—Jon VanGutman, Olivehurst, California
March/April 2018 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
The little girl started to preen.
She wanted by all to be seen.
Said the boy, who was skittish,
“You are not even British
And therefore could never be queen.”
Congratulations to Elaine Person of Orlando, Florida! For her limerick describing J.C. Leyendecker’s June 11, 1921, cover image, she wins $25 and our gratitude for a job well done.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.
Here are some of our other favorites, in no particular order:
Proud Mary has just been selected
As “Queen of the May,” as expected.
With her manner quite dour
And a visage so sour,
It’s for sure she won’t be re-elected!—Catherine Darling, Sandy Hook, Connecticut
Pretending that she is a bride,
The girl struts with absolute pride.
Meanwhile for the groom,
There’s impending doom:
When she said no kissing, she lied!—Angie Gyetvai, Old Castle, Ontario, Canada
I’m having a very bad day
As escort to Queen of the May,
A terrible mission.
I’d rather be fishin’
Or any place far, far away.—Gene Newman, Parsippany, New Jersey
Promenading to “Here Comes the Bride,”
The little gent’s role wounds his pride.
But to carry her train
Seems a much lesser pain
Than to be the groom trapped by her side.—Marcia Gunnett Woodard, Swayzee, Indiana
I might as well boldly confess:
I’ve a frog here to slip down her dress!
Will she be far too proud
To denounce me aloud?
Probably not is my guess.—Karen Cox, Readyville, Tennessee
In the gown, she will leap off the page.
With her rouge, she disguises her age.
It’s a shoot for an ad,
And her brother is mad
Since his pay is the minimum wage.—Ryan Tilley, Altamonte Springs, Florida
The circle of roses defined her,
While the flowers and flounces remind her:
Though she’s serving as Queen
And her realm is serene,
She’s ignoring that young lad behind her.—John & Elsa Morrow, Oakdale, Minnesota
Little “bride,” with her cheeks blushing red,
Announced that she’s soon to be wed.
Little “groom” just behind her
Is quick to remind her
He’d rather keep dating instead.—Gay Peterson, Loda, Illinois
He’s just a most unhappy fella,
There toting his sister’s umbrella.
While she reigns in glee,
It’s obvious he
Sings misery’s tune a cappella.—Carolyn Banks, Martinsburg, West Virginia
January/February 2018 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
The students were taught by a master
But the dance class became a disaster
Cried one little mister,
“I’m paired with my sister!”
“So can’t we please dance any faster?”
Congratulations to Linda Neukrug of Walnut Creek, California! For her limerick describing Albert W. Hampson’s illustration Cotillion, which appeared as a Post cover on May 23, 1936, Linda wins $25 and our gratitude for a job well done.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.
Linda’s was only one of a bunch of great limericks! Here are some of our favorites from our runners-up, in no particular order:
We’re lined up, all in our places
To practice polite social graces.
Some day this dance
May lead to romance,
But today we’d rather make faces.—Christine Coates, New Berlin, New York
They went to the junior cotillion,
Where she wore a dress of vermillion.
But what are the chances
These kids have more dances?
I’d say about one in a million.—Pat Cunningham, Cheektowaga, New York
They’ve probably practiced all day
To perform in this delicate way,
But the two kids in front
Add their own little stunt
To an otherwise perfect display.—Chet Cutshall, Willowick, Ohio
Dad said, “Just so that we are clear,
You will dance with your sister this year,
Or lose, if you like,
The use of your bike,”
Which explains the real reason I’m here.—Paul Desjardins, West Kelowna, British Columbia
The children’s performance was fine,
Their costumes and dancing divine.
One had to award ’em
High marks for decorum
… Except at the front of the line.—Michelle Gordon, Airway Heights, Washington
The French master’s class in the dance
Quite often would spark a romance.
But Sally and Sonny
Are nobody’s honey!
Which shows in their combative stance.—Lynn Johnson, Green Valley, Arizona
This girl who is dressed up in pink
Doesn’t know quite what to think:
Does this boy really hate her
Or wish he could date her?
She’ll obsess about this with her shrink.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
“Excuse me, there’s no time to laugh.
Bow and curtsy and straighten the calf.
This is a cotillion;
You will look like a million
Or my salary will likely be half.”—Dolores M. Sahelian, Mission Viejo, California
In the ballroom, the young are taught graces
And how to trade spats for embraces,
But whether waltz or quadrille,
There are boys and girls still
Who wish only to trade nasty faces.—Rebecca Shulman, New Hope, Pennsylvania
November/December 2017 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
It looks like the dogs won’t be quiet.
They’re causing a terrible riot.
They have their own plan
For disturbing this man
Who’s attempting to balance his diet.
Congratulations to Neal Levin of Bloomfield Hills, Michigan! For his limerick, Neal wins $25 and our gratitude for his witty and entertaining poem describing Begging for Turkey, J.C. Leyendecker’s cover from December 2, 1933.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
Our readers sent us a lot of great, funny limericks. Here are some more of our favorites, in no particular order:
To the dining hall Patterson slogs,
As the ambushers nip at his clogs.
He lowers the platter
And says of the matter,
“Thanksgiving can go to the dogs.”
—Jeff Foster, San Francisco, California
The plate can go sailing and shatter,
Dogs can grab all the goodies and scatter,
But it’s Thanksgiving time,
And that is why I’m
Giving thanks it’s not me on the platter.
—Peggy Rodebaugh, Arlington, Texas
The gargantuan turkey was trussed.
At the hounds, he was angry and fussed.
Since the butler turned blue,
His attorney will sue,
For his client was bit and concussed.
—Ryan Tilley, Altamonte Springs, Florida
Our butler avoids danger zones.
Though his life has been fraught with unknowns.
But will he be able
To get to the table
With more than a plateful of bones?
—Robert Bateman, New Carlisle, Ohio
Walking barefoot on coals? That’s a breeze.
Scaling Everest? Really? Oh, please.
Just try serving feasts
With ravenous beasts
Begging treats while they nip at your knees.
—Rebekah Hoeft, Redford, Michigan
Those hounds are filled with such moxie,
They thought, “Why chase some poor, little foxy?
When here is a meal
That’s quite easy to steal.”
They know when opportunity knocks, see?
—Brenda Thompson, Bristol, Pennsylvania
He thought he was set for this feast
And a raise in his paycheck at least.
But because of three friends
His fantasy ends
And a migraine is all that increased.
—Chet Cutshall, Willowick, Ohio
Once the servant walks out of that door,
We should hound him and jump him galore.
If we make his tray fall,
Then it’s our Butterball,
Since those humans won’t eat off the floor.
—Jennifer Klein, Jericho, New York
Some worry of holiday pounds;
Others, family making their rounds.
Neither cause me to fret.
I’ve a more certain bet:
One is far more concerned with the hounds!
—Will Davis, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
January/February 2018 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
The students were taught by a master,
But the dance class became a disaster.
Cried one little mister,
“I’m paired with my sister!”
“So can’t we please dance any faster?”
Congratulations to Linda Neukrug of Walnut Creek, California! For her limerick describing Albert W. Hampson’s illustration Cotillion, which appeared as a Post cover on May 23, 1936, Linda wins $25 and our gratitude for a job well done.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.
Linda’s was only one of a bunch of great limericks! Here are some of our favorites from our runners-up, in no particular order:
We’re lined up, all in our places
To practice polite social graces.
Some day this dance
May lead to romance,
But today we’d rather make faces.—Christine Coates, New Berlin, New York
They went to the junior cotillion,
Where she wore a dress of vermillion.
But what are the chances
These kids have more dances?
I’d say about one in a million.—Pat Cunningham, Cheektowaga, New York
They’ve probably practiced all day
To perform in this delicate way,
But the two kids in front
Add their own little stunt
To an otherwise perfect display.—Chet Cutshall, Willowick, Ohio
Dad said, “Just so that we are clear,
You will dance with your sister this year,
Or lose, if you like,
The use of your bike,”
Which explains the real reason I’m here.—Paul Desjardins, West Kelowna, British Columbia
The children’s performance was fine,
Their costumes and dancing divine.
One had to award ’em
High marks for decorum
… Except at the front of the line.—Michelle Gordon, Airway Heights, Washington
The French master’s class in the dance
Quite often would spark a romance.
But Sally and Sonny
Are nobody’s honey!
Which shows in their combative stance.—Lynn Johnson, Green Valley, Arizona
This girl who is dressed up in pink
Doesn’t know quite what to think:
Does this boy really hate her
Or wish he could date her?
She’ll obsess about this with her shrink.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
“Excuse me, there’s no time for laugh.
Bow and curtsy and straighten the calf.
This is a cotillion;
You will look like a million
Or my salary will likely be half.”—Dolores M. Sahelian, Mission Viejo, California
In the ballroom, the young are taught graces
And how to trade spats for embraces,
But whether waltz or quadrille,
There are boys and girls still
Who wish only to trade nasty faces.—Rebecca Shulman, New Hope, Pennsylvania
September/October 2017 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
This highly unorthodox fellow
Sports blue in an ocean of yellow.
He is only on hand
Since his son’s in the band.
(It’s a brass band, and he’s playing cello.)
Congratulations to Jeff Foster of San Francisco, California! For his limerick, Jeff wins $25 and our gratitude for his witty and entertaining poem describing Sitting on the Wrong Side, Gene Pelham’s cover from November 15, 1941.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
Our readers sent us a lot of great, funny limericks. Here are some more of our favorites, in no particular order:
A faithful fan of West U.,
Among fans of the opposite crew,
With muffs on his ears
To drown out their cheers —
What else could the poor guy do?—Howard D. Dashke, Caseyville, Illinois
This fan’s in a heck of a fix,
Forlorn as his team takes its licks.
Surrounded by yellow,
This unhappy fellow
Would do well to just hit the bricks.—Bruce Beardsley, Rochester, New York
The loneliest man in the stands
Is not the one stuck behind bands.
He’s the visiting fan
With no escape plan
While the home team’s lead slowly expands.—Jerry Dorbin, Santa Fe, New Mexico
Our fan though his ticket was true.
He came with a banner in blue.
What he found out instead
Made his face turn bright red:
The flags had a much diff’rent hue.—Dick Swain, Champaign, Illinois
Oh I wonder just what I can do.
The score is now 20 to 2.
I’m such a sad fellow,
Surrounded by yellow,
While my flag and I are so blue!—Angie Gyetvai, Oldcastle, Ontario, Canada
There is little more greatly resented
Than a fan who has bravely dissented
And refuses to bend
As he proudly defends
The team he has long represented.—Mark Stellinga, Tiffin, Iowa
The look on his face held the clue
To a day he’d prefer to redo:
“What’s most upsetting,
Of course, is the betting
Of all of my money on blue.”—Paul Desjardins, West Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada
As a fan watched the drubbing unfold,
He could feel disappointment take hold.
When they asked, “Happy sir?”
His remark was just “Brrr!”
For the weather and game left him cold.—Roy Skibiski, Lawndale, California
His cheeks with their rosy red glow
Aren’t flushed from the cold and the snow.
The frustrated fellow
Surrounded by yellow
Is angry and ready to blow.
—Joyce Petricheck, Finleyville, Pennsylvania
May/June 2017 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
Between them they had just one cent.
It really wore hard on the gent.
The sweets or the sours?
They stood there for hours
Till he, and the penny, were spent.
Congratulations to Cheryl Ireland of Chesterfield, Michigan! For her limerick, Cheryl wins $25 and our gratitude for her witty and entertaining poem describing Frances Tipton Hunter’s August 19, 1939, cover Penny Candy.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
We received a lot of great limericks. Here are some of the other ones that made us smile, in no particular order:
Our decision is made with great care
Since we’ve only a penny to share.
But if we had our druthers
We’d surely pick others
But we’d melt ‘neath the counter boy’s glare.—Barbara Wills, Blaine, Minnesota
There was a young girl named Sandy
Who had just one penny for candy.
As she savored her sweet
She was heard to repeat,
“Tough luck!” to her brother named Andy.—Brian Federico, Clyde, New York
The man on the candy sales staff
Tried hard to look bored and not laugh
When Janie and Benny
Showed up with one penny
Asking, “Please cut that sucker in half?”—Ed Tramell, Wheat Ridge, Colorado
“Though time equals money,” sighs Lenny,
“Of either I barely have any.
My time’s taken up
By these tots and their pup
While inflation devalues their penny.”—Jeff Foster, San Francisco, California
The candy shop just down the street
Is where my twins go for a treat.
The candy’s a penny
But they don’t buy many
Because they’re already so sweet!—Marcia Gwin, San Diego, California
To bask in a love is a balm
That’s so often repeated in psalm.
But the best of the many
Is a child’s last penny
That’s spent on a present for Mom.—Paul Desjardins, West Kelowna, British Columbia
As the slacker appears to be pensive,
He considers a counteroffensive
At the girl with her doll
Since she whines with a drawl:
“But a penny for sweets is expensive!”—Ryan Tilley, Altamonte Springs, Florida
“It’s been one whole hour,” he’s musing,
“And these children are nowhere near choosing.
So ten minutes more,
And that mutt on the floor
Will have some company snoozing.”—Ted Hayes, Mint Hill, North Carolina
This job is an easy position,
But based on some simple division,
You can’t pay the rent,
When the candy’s one cent
And you’re just being paid on commission.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
March/April 2017 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
A nymph in the first blush of spring
Spied a snowman and fancied a fling.
But her kiss was his last;
He was melting, and fast,
While pondering love and its sting.
Congratulations to Karen Eastlund of Raritan, New Jersey! For her limerick, Karen wins $25 and our gratitude for her witty and entertaining poem describing Paul Stahr’s March 7, 1925, cover Kissing Winter Goodbye.
If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
We received a lot of great limericks. Here are some of the other ones that made us smile, in no particular order:
“As she kissed his cold cheek on that day,
The snowman began to decay.
The kiss, so sublime,
Was construed as a crime.
But the evidence melted away.”—Al Cross, Sacramento, California
A butterfly’s kiss and a cuddle
Left Frosty the man in a muddle.
He winked at his mate,
Resigned to his fate,
Then promptly dissolved in a puddle.—Michelle Gordon, Airway Heights, Washington
A pretty young moth of a miss
Gave a snowman a very wet kiss.
He cried, “Please don’t do it.
I cannot but rue it.
I’m melting without your assist!”—Louis Hirsch, Vallejo, California
Frosty could tell things weren’t right
By his sweltering feeling that night.
He shouldn’t have broke
With his cold icy Coke
And ordered that sweet steamy Sprite.—Suellen Mayfield, Venice, California
The snowman was Lord of the farms;
The fairy was known for her charms.
He invited her in
for a kiss on the chin,
then melted away in her arms!—Carl Nord, Bainbridge Island, Washington
Are these two really a match?
Not sure either one is a catch.
Top hat and a broom
Don’t suggest bride and groom —
Are they part of a plot that might hatch?—Dolores Sahelian, Mission Viejo, California
It was time for warm spring to draw nigh,
And the delicate snowman knew why.
But he had lots of pride.
So he took it in stride.
“I’m averse to a mushy goodbye!”—Roy Skibiski, Lawndale, California
Frosty, your weight loss is drastic.
Your waistband will need an elastic.
If you keep on this way,
I’m sorry to say,
Next year you’ll be made out of plastic.—Matt Stewart, Peterborough, Ontario
The fairy came down with a flutter.
“I love you snow-boy,” she did utter.
But her feather-light touch
warmed him up way too much,
and he melted and ran down the gutter.—Adrian Turner, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, UK
January/February 2017 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
As the mist on the battlefield clears,
And the enemy regiment nears,
This lass in her nook
Foreshadows the look
Of Where’s Waldo? by 60-odd years!
Congratulations to Jeff Foster of San Francisco, California! For his limerick, Jeff wins $25 and our gratitude for his witty and entertaining poem describing Penrhyn Stanlaws’ February 18, 1928, cover Snowball Fight (above). If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
We received a lot of great limericks. Here are some of the other ones that made us smile, in no particular order:
This red-hatted miss will aim true.
A snowball to her — nothing new.
Her eyes show her mettle;
There’s a score here to settle.
Aren’t you glad she’s not targeting you?—Diane Swan, Barre, Vermont
They laughed and they let her “pretend;”
The boys thought she could not contend.
A delicate flower?
They’d soon know her power;
They’d never again condescend.—Rebekah Hoeft, Redford, Michigan
When she throws as if pitching a batter,
Her snowball will make quite a splatter.
She’ll “powder” his nose
And make sure that he knows
That with snowballs, size really does matter.—Chris Bauer, Los Molinos, California
“There’s Sue (with her dumb, stupid bow)!
And that two-timing nincompoop Joe.
If I throw this just right
Using all of my might
I can clobber them both with one throw!”—Guy Pietrobono, Washingtonville, New York
Although she joined in just for kicks,
She soon realized it’s the pits
When the fight is to throw
Balls made out of snow
Constructed by hands without mitts.—Paul Desjardins, West Kelowna, British Columbia
My snow fort is ready to go,
Filled with balls roundly packed out of snow.
All I need is a chump
I can hit with a thump.
It’s all in the prep, as you know.—Louise DeDera
That girl in the red and white stripes,
I know her — she’s one of those types
Who tend to believe in
This way to get even
To settle her grumbles and gripes.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
A brazen young lady named Shammer
Threw snowballs that hit like a hammer.
But that came to a stop
When she hit a big cop,
And Miss Shammer wound up in the slammer.—Philip Simmons, Greenville, South Carolina
My advice — in a snowball fight, mind you —
Is to make sure that no one’s behind you.
If you just want to stay
Out of trouble, I’d say
Dress like Waldo, and no one will find you!—Jennifer Klein, Rehovot, Israel
September/October 2016 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
“Interference!” was the referee’s call
When the pup deflected the ball.
“The game can’t go on
Till that mongrel is gone.
We’re not playing fetch after all.”
Congratulations to Karen Meissner of Bothell, Washington! For her outstanding limerick, she wins $25 and our gratitude for this funny and entertaining poem describing Dog on the Field (above) by Lonie Bee. You can enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post through our online entry form.
Karen’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. In no particular order, here are some of our other favorite contest entries:
There once was a young mutt named Prince
Who easily vaulted the fence
And catching the ball
Was no trouble at all
But the man in the stripes took offense!—Harold Long, Cathedral City, California
The home team was taking a whipping,
When a dog from nowhere came ripping
The play was a fumble,
The ref took a tumble,
And the dog was ejected for clipping.—Dennis Reaves, Oxford, Alabama
Sometimes there is no one at all
To whom I can throw the football.
But one day there was:
The game ended because
It’s my dog who would come when I call.—“Sue Do Nyhm,” Grenada, Mississippi
When Fido first made his appearance,
The ref’s incline granted him clearance.
For ball-chasing, though,
The ref whistled, “Whoa!”
And benched him for Pooch Interference.—S.E. Reynolds, Winger, Minnesota
The home team was gaining some traction
Till the mascot got into the action.
The ref made the call,
“No biting the ball!”
And he tagged the pup with an infraction.—Lisa Timpf, Simcoe, Ontario, Canada
This dog could be a receiver.
Of that I am a believer.
The ref made a call.
The dog got the ball,
Cause he is a pure-bred retriever.—Angie Gyetvai, Oldcastle, Ontario, Canada
His dignity had definitely flown,
For as he ran through
Most everyone knew
That the pup was the ref’s very own.—Lyn Tutor, Magee, Mississippi
This dog is the new substitute
He’s not very big, but he’s cute
As he darts to and fro
He’s stealing the show
With a long run and ref in pursuit.—Chet Cutshall, Willowick, Ohio
In the rulebook that referees wield
Is the penalty for ref-tripping revealed?
It’s most likely not known —
Throw a flag or a bone
For an illegal beagle downfield?—Ross Steacy, St. Johns, Arizona
July/August 2016 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
It feels like a hundred and three!
And we’re both just as parched as can be.
We’re panting and moaning,
Perspiring and groaning…
So why are we drinking hot tea?
Congratulations to Guy Pietrobono of Washingtonville, New York! For his outstanding limerick, he wins $25 and our gratitude for this funny and entertaining poem describing Billboard Painters (above) by Stevan Dohanos. You can enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post through our online entry form.
Guy’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. In nor particular order, here are some of our other favorite contest entries:
When the heat is uncompromising
And the work is ever-perspiring.
With the drink that you pour,
It is hard to ignore
That there’s truth in some advertising.—S. Pavelich, Grand Blanc, Michigan
Two painters named Willy and Fred,
Rode up in a truck that was red.
Old Fred should have learnt
That his head would get burnt
If his hat was not up on his head.—Tom Glatting, Chillicothe, Ohio
“Imagine us both in the shade
Sipping GALLONS of pink lemonade …”
“Imagine instead
That we’re working here, Fred,
‘Cause on Friday I’d like to get paid!”—Guy Pietrobono, Washingtonville, New York
I’m thinkin’ that drinkin’ this potion
Might make me go weak with emotion.
Up here on this deck,
It’s hotter than heck.
A refill? You’ll have my devotion.—Rebekah Hoeft, Redford, Michigan
The sign was for selling AC.
One painter explained it to me:
AC really cools
By transferring joules.
And a jewel of a painter was he.—Phillip T. Ross, Indianapolis, Indiana
Think back, now, to winter’s big chill,
And the snowball you rolled down the hill.
This heat wave won’t last,
It soon will be past,
And then you’ll miss summer, you will!—Grace Bates, Ft. Wayne, Indiana
It’s hotter than what it reads there,
And that big fan ain’t blowin’ cool air.
It sure would be nice
To sit on the ice
And pretend to be Big Papa Bear!—Dolores M. Sahelian, Mission Viejo, California
Of all the unfortunate luck,
Hot weather had actually struck.
Poor Robert and Casey!
If only the AC
Was working inside their own truck.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Outdoor work that is done in the sun
Isn’t close to a job you’d call fun.
When the heat is so cruel,
Try to keep yourself cool
So not you, but the sign, is well done.—Thomas Eveslage, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
May/June 2016 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-up
The boy really never was sicker,
’Cause Grampa was not one to bicker.
When he begged for a puff:
“Take 10 since you’re tough!
And here, taste my hundred-proof liquor!”
Congratulations to Rebekah Hoeft of Redford, Michigan! For her outstanding limerick, she wins $25 and our gratitude for this funny and entertaining poem describing Harold Anderson’s Sick of Smoking (above). If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
Rebekah’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. In nor particular order, here are some of our other favorite contest entries:
A lit pipe, a boy, and his pup
Were out in “the bush,” hiding up.
Boy took a deep toke
Of that tobacco smoke
And fell down as his dinner came up.
—William Fountain, Carlsbad, California
This young lad with an early desire
To try out Granddad’s burley ‘n’ briar
Took only one puff
And deemed it enough
To cause him to surely expire!
—Clarice Piantedosi, Attleboro, Massachusetts
“Little Boy Blue,” just thirteen,
Part man and part boy — in between —
Thought just for a joke
He’d puff on pipe smoke,
And now he is “Little Boy Green!”
—Cheryl Burney, Royal Oak Michigan
Doctors have charged me a fee,
Saying naps will revitalize me.
It’s advice that seems sound,
So henceforth I’ll be found
Every afternoon — prone to agree.
—Paul Richards, Peoria, Illinois
‘What happened to my buddy Luke?’
Thought trusty ol’ pal, Marmaduke.
‘I want to get close,
But something smells gross.
Not the smoke — my pal reeks of puke.’
—Edward Perley, Downingtown, Pennsylvania
After consulting his dog “Lucky Charm,”
He surmised, ‘what the heck could it harm?’
The laddie got ripe
After puffing his pipe,
And he tripped without leaving the farm.
—C.T. Carney, Knoxville, Tennessee
Oh, what I would give to redo
My last couple moments or two?
For sure no more smoking,
And I am not joking,
Because down here, I don’t like the view.
—Norma Wilt, Cincinnati, Ohio
Here lies a naughty young snipe
Who decided to swipe daddy’s pipe.
Off to smoke it he went;
Now he doth repent,
And the tears from his cheeks he doth wipe.
—Brandi King, Riverdale, Michigan
I hadn’t tried smoking as yet.
Some puffs would be great — I would bet!
But then things spun around,
And I fell on the ground!
So next time — an e-cigarette!
—Brian Federico, Clyde, New York
March/April 2016 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-up
You can tell by my clothes that it’s true;
Miniature golf is what I pursue.
Have a look at the prize;
You can tell by its size:
The trophy is miniature, too.
Congratulations to Alfred Cross of Sacramento, California! For his winning limerick, Alfred wins $25 and our gratitude for his witty and entertaining poem describing George Brehm’s Golf Trophy (above). If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
Alfred’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. Here are some of our other favorite contest entries, in no particular order:
I’m proud as punch of my prize.
It’s so bright, it dazzles the eyes.
It’s true that it’s small,
I wouldn’t have won it at all
But a squirrel kept improving my lies.—Jean H. Brydge, Lyndhurst, Virginia
According to gossip and chatter
(Although it should not really matter):
This tournament winner
Could be a bit thinner;
The trophy could be a bit fatter.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
It’s amazing that I could compete
Against flat bellies that I could beat.
When bent over my putt,
Because of my gut,
I could not get a glimpse of my feet.—Donald Giffels, Venice, Florida
As onlookers judging surmise,
Fulfillment’s not measured by size.
Though some may poke fun
At the trophy I won,
I’m pleased as can be with my prize.—Michelle Gordon, Airway Heights, Washington
A golfer when trimmer and taller
Was sometimes a big trophy hauler.
Now being more portly,
He finds in his sport, he
Takes prizes proportionately smaller.—William Dow, Manchester, Connecticut
He huffs and he puffs ’round the links.
He’s quite unaware that he stinks.
His drives are too short,
And I’m sad to report:
When putting, his ball never sinks.—Rebekah Hoeft, Redford, Michigan
I’m smiling to hide all my woe,
For I don’t want the artist to know.
I can’t tell him at all
That the cup is so small
Because it’s for high score, not low!—Lonnie Barham, Warwick, Rhode Island
He still can’t believe he’s the winner.
He claims that he’s still a beginner.
He won this award,
Which he truly adored,
But he’d rather be treated to dinner.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
My trophy may seem to be tiny,
And my cheeks and my nose may look shiny,
But a water-hole ace
Brought a smile to my face
That matches the breadth of my heinie.—David Keller, Dublin, Ohio
January/February 2016 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
This girl has a radiant smile,
And it seems she has savvy and style.
This was Valentine’s Day.
No one sent gifts her way,
So she bought them and selfied the pile.
Congratulations to contest winner Deborah Dickinson-Deacon of Amherst, New York! For her limerick describing F. Sands Brunner’s illustration, Valentine’s Gifts (above), Deborah wins $25 and our gratitude for an entertaining poem. If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
Deborah’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. Here are some of our other favorite contest entries, in no particular order:
For me? Well, I’m just pleased as punch.
The problem: I don’t have a hunch
Who the gift could be from.
Let’s hope not that bum —
Fred Bruner — who stuck me with lunch.—L.J. Williams, Topeka, Kansas
Valentine gifts are such fun,
No matter how often they come.
I will save them and then
I’ll thank the young men
Just as soon as I know who they’re from.—Alfred W. Cross, Sacramento, California
Although she’s aglow with her heart,
It really would give her a start
To know that her flower
And mini card shower
Were a last-minute thought at Walmart.—Kevin Rorabaugh, Ellis, Kansas
Such Valentine gifts make me weep —
A card with a message that’s deep,
Some candy — what’s more,
There’re posies galore.
So where is the jewelry, you creep?—Betty Lyons, Newton Falls, Ohio
This Valentine babe — such a cutie —
Blushed at chocolates and violets as booty.
If she’d known modern taste
To maintain a tight waist
She might have requested tofutti.—Mia Berman, New York City, New York
His girl was utter perfection,
So he sent her a lovely confection.
She blushed chin to locks
When she opened the box
‘Cause he sent her the “lover’s selection.”—J. Janes, Marinette, Wisconsin
Perusing the many entreaties
That came from her various sweeties,
The candy she tried
Came with one downside:
The risk of type two diabetes.—Patrick McKeon, Pennington, New Jersey
I’ve waited all year for this day,
And I’ve only got one thing to say:
While candy is nice,
It just won’t suffice;
I’d rather go roll in the hay!—Michelle Gordon, Airway Heights, Washington
This sweet lass had suitors of three.
There was Harry and Masters and me,
Yet I thought she was mine,
This dear sweet valentine,
Till she ran off with someone named Lee?—Patricia Brinton, Burnsville, Minnesota
November/December 2015 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
Right now I am seeking assurance
As I start on this test of endurance.
It’s not that I fear
Falling hard on my rear;
It’s worry about my insurance!
—Adele Suga, Vassalboro, Maine
Congratulations to contest-winner Adele Suga! For her limerick describing the George Hughes illustration Ice-skating Class for Dad (above), Adele wins $25 and our gratitude for an entertaining poem. If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick via our online entry form.
Adele’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. Here are some of our other favorite contest entries, in no particular order:
This awkward young dad’s in a bind,
But his teachers are patient and kind.
He’s learning a skill
With a slippery drill
That will yield a most sore behind!—Rose Hester, Brooklyn, New York
He thought he would gracefully glide;
Instead he did clumsily slide.
With his offspring at hand,
He was able to stand,
So all that he hurt was his pride.—Carolyn Tourville, Tullahoma, Tennessee
We didn’t just go ’cause we HAD to …
To skate with our Dad, we were GLAD to.
“You kids will do great
Once I teach you to skate!”
But we ended up teaching our DAD to.Our Dad enjoys making the case
That skating is all about grace:
“It’s rhythmic, poetic,
Refined and aesthetic…”
HEY, DAD JUST FELL FLAT ON HIS FACE!!!—Guy Pietrobono, Washingtonville, New York
On Wall Street, a respected CO.
On the ice … he just couldn’t go.
With some slides and some slids,
Even help from his kids,
He always ended up in the snow!—Marlayne Jackson, New Cumberland, Pennsylvania
When it came to outdoorsy-type stuff,
My dad liked things rugged and rough.
But when it was icy,
Things got a bit dicey.
It turned out he wasn’t so tough.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
“That looks so easy,” he cried.
“I got this — shuffle and glide.”
Now Dad’s steering is errant,
His lost balance apparent.
Here comes a THUD to his pride.—Dan Rogers, Garland, Texas
September/October 2015 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up
The quarterback sits and he stews —
How unfair that his team had to lose!
He can wash his sad face,
But no soap can erase
The stain of the gridiron blues.
—Rose Hester, Brooklyn, New York
Congratulations to Rose Hester! For her limerick describing the John Clymer illustration Quarterback in the Tub (above), Rose wins $25 — and our gratitude for a job well done. If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.
Of course, Rose’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked! Here are some of our favorite limericks, from our runners-up, in no particular order:
“Now be a good boy.” His mom said,
“You have to be clean to get fed.
“Though you may be a winner,
“You won’t get your dinner,
“Until I see freckles of red.”—Robert Kennedy, De Pere, Wisconsin
To my team I’m a star on the field.
With my touchdown our title was sealed!
But with Mom at the door,
And my clothes on the floor,
To the soap I will just have to yield.—Lynne Lambert, Plantation, Florida
With helmet and gear on the floor
The game left him dirty and sore
He sat in the tub
To scrub-a-dub-dub
“Will somebody PLEASE shut the door?!”—Steven Hermance, Winnebago, Illinois
The football game was such fun
Tim’s team had finally won!
He came home full of glee
But mom made him flee
To scrub until he was done!—Kathy Rager, Paterson, New Jersey
It had makings of great football lore —
As he ran in the game-winning score!
But his mother said, “Scrub!!”
And “Go soak in the tub!”
The moment he walked through the door.—Mary Starn, Orrville, Ohio
Oh, what an embarrassing score!
My morale’s in that pile on the floor.
I wounded my pride
When I bruised my backside
And I don’t want to play anymore!—Michelle Gordon, Airway Heights, Washington
His helmet and trousers and shirt
And body are covered with dirt.
So slide back that curtain,
Cuz one thing is certain:
An hour-long bath wouldn’t hurt.—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
The game of the year was now past,
They lost, but they fought to the last.
To wash off that grime,
Would take a long time:
But hadn’t the game been a blast?—James A. Lewis, Merrill, Wisconsin
At the end of the game it would be
A win ‘cuz this lad kicked for three
All the fans, they did scream
He was the star of the team
But his mother was head referee!—Linda Van Holtz, Skaneateles Falls, New York